Urban Nightmare #WEP #IWSG

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Below please find my entry for the WEP June 2020 Challenge. Write…Edit…Publish is a writing challenge sponsored six times a year by the good folks over at #WEP / #IWSG, an online community meant to support and inspire writers at all stages of their career. The rules are simple. From the WEP site, submissions can be “any genre except erotica, max word count 1000. Present your interpretation of the prompt in flash fiction, poetry, or creative non-fiction.” Please visit the link above for more information about how the challenge works and how to get involved.

When I saw the prompt for this month, Urban Nightmare, I felt the darkness of all the sad news upon my heart. As I’m currently already writing a very dark piece, I couldn’t face working on anything else with too much heaviness. As a result, I have written the little ditty below in the hopes it might be enjoyed by a few. It’s still pretty dark, I guess.

As a note, I will mention that earlier this year I had the occasion to learn that the the word nightmare has a special meaning within the world of Dungeons and Dragons. In case anyone isn’t familiar with D&D by now, one might summarize it as Joseph Campbell’s Hero with a Thousand Faces meets a handful of dice in a storytelling game. As it turns out, a Nightmare is a mythical creature found in the rulebooks.

I hope you enjoy this little piece and I look forward to reading everyone’s contribution for this round.


An Urban Nightmare

A Unicorn's horn,
brilliant and bright,
is bowed to the stars,
the forest, the night.
The Elven Lord rises;
to the plea, he'll accede.
The little folk dance
as he saddles his steed.

Rare is the day
and dire the needs
when commands from a Fey
a unicorn heeds.
But the Unicorn's love
has been trapped by the king,
and her agonized cry
rends his heart as it rings.

In hills o'er the city,
the lone anguished cry
is heard by old souls
as their path brings them by.
To the castle they fly
with heartfelt intent
to ride into darkness,
to risk the descent.

To the dungeon they go.
The guards? Drunken men.
They find her below,
locked up in a pen.
The chains are all broken,
the door opened wide,
but neither believe
what they find there, inside.

A Succubus stands
with her hands on the rein
of the bridle that keeps
her Nightmare restrained.
Gone is the horn
and the flowing white mane—
her coat burnt to onyx,
her mane now in flames.

The trap was well set,
the door slams shut tight.
The Lord and the Unicorn
are lost in the fight.
Forests now whisper
with no one to hear.
The little folk weep
and shudder in fear.

They hide now in caves
'round fires late at night,
and try to remember
what's wrong and what's right.
But that which was lost
shall never be found—
no matter how long
the sun goes around.

Word count 253
FCA (Full Critique Acceptable)

Thank you for having a read and feel free to leave comments. Here are the other WEP entries for June, 2020. Enjoy!